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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26817319">i think i'm falling</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/cityjoker/pseuds/cityjoker'>cityjoker</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Warrior Nun (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>F/F, T for swearing, also T for There is no Teresa in this, ava trying so very hard not to fall for a nun, beatrice not making it any easier, no plots head empty</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 09:46:47</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,129</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26817319</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/cityjoker/pseuds/cityjoker</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Add this to the list of things that Beatrice can do that are undeniably hot.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Sister Beatrice/Ava Silva</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>60</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>501</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. i'm falling</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>title from fallingforyou by the 1975</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">Ava steps out of the convenience store and immediately recognises Mary’s motorcycle, as well as a familiar hooded figure leaning against the side of it with her back turned towards her.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">She sighs. The sun was beginning to set, but it had only been a few hours since she left. She had been hoping for more time before they inevitably caught up with her. “Okay, I know what this looks like-“</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“Hop on.” Ava falters for a moment, because <em>that’s</em> not the voice she was expecting to hear. She supposes she should have noticed the lack of shotguns on a slightly slimmer body. Also, Beatrice knows how to ride a motorcycle? But then she remembers that she’s a literal demon-fighting nun, speaker of god-knows-how-many languages, and black belt practitioner of more martial arts than Ava can even pronounce. She guesses being able to ride a motorcycle wouldn’t be too farfetched for her. Also, add this to the list of things that Beatrice can do that are undeniably hot.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“Oh. Uh, hey.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">Beatrice turns around then, sliding the hood off of her head, and in her eyes there is none of the admonishment Ava had been expecting to receive. Instead, the slight crinkle of the corners of her eyes suggest that she’s genuinely delighted to see Ava, and her smile feels like open arms inviting her into a hug. She moves to take her seat on the bike, and with her eyes still on Ava, tilts her head towards the back seat in a gesture for her to do the same.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">Riding on a motorcycle is new to Ava, but so is walking through twenty feet of concrete, meeting an angel on the other side (The first time she did it, the one on the other side was definitely an angel. The last time, well, we don’t talk about that.), realising that’s <em>not a fucking angel</em>, and starting a war with said not-a-fucking-angel. So, yeah. It’s always something new with Beatrice.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“Where do I put my feet?”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“Just right here,” Beatrice taps one of the footrests with her foot. “Be careful not to touch the exhaust pipe, it gets hot after a while.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">Ava suppresses a chuckle.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <em>Wouldn’t be the only thing getting hot.</em>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“Sorry?”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“Huh?” <em>Did I just-</em></p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“What else gets hot?”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1"><em>Shit</em>.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“Uh- the wheels?” Ava tries, while she fixes her eyes on anything that isn’t Beatrice.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“Hm.” She feels Beatrice’s curious gaze on her. “Yeah. Don’t touch those either.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">Ava feels her cheeks burn, along with the back of her neck, and yeah, she definitely feels hotter than the exhaust pipe right now. She’s about to hop on behind Beatrice, when another problem presents itself. Another set of limbs she doesn’t know what to do with.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“Okay, where do I put my hands?” And, well, Ava knows exactly where she needs to put her hands. She’s also aware of the pure romance of putting your arms around someone and feeling the the wind whipping through your hair. (She’s seen Titanic. Way too many times.) Which is why she’s not too sure why she’s asking this right now. Respect, right? Beatrice is a nun after all. A nun she definitely does not want to kiss and make out with. But also, she could probably knock her out if she put her hands somewhere she didn’t want them, and that’s not a risk Ava is willing to take right now. Maybe ever.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">Beatrice shoots her a look over her shoulder. It’s a mix between not being able to tell if Ava’s being serious and fond exasperation. It sends a symphony of feelings shooting through every one of her synapses. <em>Okay, that’s new. And kind of hot.</em> <em>Never seen that look before.</em> <em>Hold on- is that a smirk?</em></p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“Wherever you want.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“O-okay.” <em>Fuck.</em></p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">She settles herself behind Beatrice, making sure to leave ample space between their bodies and even then, her knees are skimming the sides of Beatrice’s ass and its already too much. She tentatively places her hands near Beatrice’s hips, fingers lightly curling around the loose fabric of her shirt. This is enough to make sure she doesn’t fall, right? Because any further and-</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">Firm hands grab her wrists, pulling them so that her hands end up at the front of Beatrice’s body. The now awkward position forces Ava to readjust herself on the seat; her thighs hug Beatrice’s and her chest is <em>so</em> close to being completely flush against her back.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">Their eyes meet in the side mirror. “Don’t fall,” Beatrice says. And with a twist of her wrists, the bike roars, and they’re on their way.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. for you</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">Ava swears she can almost feel the defined lines of Beatrice’s toned abs, and thinks this would be an incredible time to fall off the bike. She takes a deep breath to steel herself because <em>what a ride she’s in for</em>, but immediately regrets it when the sweet scent of the woman in front of her fills her lungs. It reminds her of the time when she, so high on her newfound ability (and mobility), nearly drowned in a swimming pool - how the water had similarly filled her lungs and suffocated her. But no, this doesn’t feel like suffocating. This feels like the breath of fresh air after breaking the surface of the water. Ava can’t get enough of it.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">Her brief moment of reminiscence takes her mind quickly through the journey she’s gone through since then, to be exactly where she is right now. She skims through her recent memories in her mind. A journey of running, of flight, and eventually, fight.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">She wants to fight now. For her life, for her sisters, for Beatrice? For the world? For God? She doesn’t know yet. But that doesn’t change anything. She needs her sisters - or at least Beatrice - to know that, and to believe that. And to trust in her.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“I wasn’t trying to run, you know.” She says, softly. Beatrice hears the words - practically whispered into her own ear - over the idle noises of traffic moving rather slowly around them.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“I know.” She states matter-of-factly. And as if Beatrice senses that Ava isn’t fully convinced, hears the unspoken <em>there’s more to it than you’re telling, </em>she goes on<em>.</em> “Do you remember the day we left Cat’s Cradle?”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">Ava could easily scoff and joke about how being chased out by nuns with actual firearms could hardly be considered as leaving, but she hears the vulnerability threatening to escape from beneath Beatrice’s carefully enunciated words and knows that Beatrice is right on the line that she draws for herself. The last time she had crossed that line, Ava had been right there to tell her that she was beautiful. She intends to be there and tell her that every single time Beatrice wants to cross that line, and if this is one of those times, Ava is going to make the most of it. So instead of a witty remark, she nods slowly, hoping Beatrice can feel her movement from their close proximity.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“You saved my life that day.” Beatrice sounds as if she’s far away, reliving the battles they fought and their near-death experiences. “And back at the Vatican, you- well, you did whatever you did there. You saved me then, too.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">She remembers locking eyes with Beatrice across the small courtyard in the Vatican, finding her pained gaze through the throngs of possessed, and seeing helplessness reflected back at her. She remembers thinking that she never wants to see Beatrice helpless. Not if she can help it. The rest is blurry, but at some point she vaguely registers being carried by strong arms and being told by a panicked, yet steady voice that she would be okay. Ava thinks she knows whose voice that belonged to.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“I know you’re not going anywhere, Ava. In any case, I- we won’t let you.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">Hearing this, Ava smiles, and fully relaxes into Beatrice, embracing her fully. She hooks her chin over her shoulder, and wisps of dark hair tickle the side of her face in the wind, but Ava doesn’t mind at all. She feels the muscles in Beatrice’s shoulder flex slightly as she steers the bike, and revels in how <em>alive</em> Beatrice feels under her. The Halo thrums in content.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">(Deep within, Ava knows that she never could have controlled the Halo to do what it did on those two occasions; it was simply reacting to her emotions. Of course, Beatrice knows this too. It was one of the first things the nun had ever said to her. And if said emotions dictated that the Halo would always save Beatrice whenever she needed saving, Ava would be okay with that. Whatever those emotions were.)</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">As if she suddenly remembered something, Ava whips her head up from where it was nestled on Beatrice’s shoulder. “Don’t you want to know why I came out here in the first place?” She doesn’t wait for an answer, already reaching an arm behind her back to unzip her bag, while her other arm tightens its hold around Beatrice’s waist. <em>(Just so I don’t fall, that’s all.)</em></p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“I figured you were going to tell me sooner or later.” Beatrice simply replies. And even though Ava currently has an arm twisted behind her back, eyebrows knitted together in frustration of not being able to get her stupid bag open, she smiles the smallest of smiles because of Beatrice’s quiet, but unwaveringly strong faith in her.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">A few grunts, zips and rustles of plastic packaging later, a triumphant <em>a-ha!</em> is heard, and Ava’s arm returns to the front of Beatrice’s body, holding-</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“Uh.. Lipstick, Ava?”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">Beatrice can only spare a quick glance towards the object before she has to return her eyes to the road, but what she sees seems to be a capped plastic tube, bright red in colour, decorated with some words in an obnoxiously childish font that she hadn’t had time to read. Lipstick for dummies, perhaps. She’s just confused as to why Ava would go out of her way to buy this. And what was up with that ridiculous font? Surely Sephora wasn’t rebranding.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“No! It’s a Push-Pop, Bea! My mom used to get this for me all the time, and I couldn't find it anywhere in Spain, but they sell it here! It’s my favourite.” Ava practically bounces behind her, and Beatrice thinks she sounds too excited to be talking about lipstick.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“A what?”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“Here, try it.” With a pop, she uncaps the unknown tube, revealing some sort of purple, translucent candy in place of where the lipstick should be. Ava practically shoves the offending object up Beatrice’s nose, and she has to dodge to avoid a nostril full of sweet.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">Hesitantly, she brings her mouth to the candy. It tastes like berries and honey, and is basically just a lollipop taking the form of a lipstick, but Beatrice decides she likes it. (And that has absolutely nothing to do with how Ava said that it was her favourite.)</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“That’s.. Interesting.” Through the side mirror, she flashes Ava a small but genuine smile that reaches her eyes, and Ava beams right back.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">She makes a mental note to add this to next week’s grocery list.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">They slow to a stop once they reach their safe house, Beatrice planting a foot on the ground to steady the bike before she pulls the keys out of the ignition.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“Ava?” Beatrice’s soft voice fills the space between them.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“Hmm?” She hums in response, and Beatrice feels Ava’s chest, still pressed against her back, vibrate with the sound.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“Are you gonna.. get off?”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“Yeah.” She doesn’t. She stays right where she is for a moment, arms around Beatrice’s waist, chin hooked over her shoulder, until she summons the courage to turn her head ever so minutely and press a quick kiss to Beatrice’s jaw. She swears she feels the breath stutter in Beatrice’s throat, and smirks to herself.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">The sly movement of her lips doesn’t go unnoticed by Beatrice, who catches her in the mirror, and quickly turns in her seat to capture those mischievous lips in a searing kiss. It only lasts a moment before the taller girl pulls away, but Ava pulls her right back in by the back of her neck, and on her lips she tastes the familiar flavour of her childhood that she missed during all those years in the orphanage.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“It tastes good on you.” She mumbles between kisses, against soft, berry-flavoured lips.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">===</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“Shit, I did not lend the girl my bike for them to do <em>that</em>.” Mary whispered, peeping through a window in the living room.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“I’m honestly surprised they haven’t fallen off yet.” Lilith remarked from beside her.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“Oh they fell alright, just not off the bike.” Camila said, grinning.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>the first few lines of fallingforyou are actually so perfect for this fic</p></blockquote></div></div>
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